


A Long and Hard Journey

by thisislegit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bilbo was a prostitute, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisislegit/pseuds/thisislegit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing everything to an unknown cousin, Bilbo Baggins, has to resort to other means in order to make a living. Although times grew rough, eventually he created a schedule, and he was somewhat content with his life. That is, until a certain wizard came to darken his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo! I've been putting off a lot of things, and this story isn't really completed yet, but I assumed that I would simply upload it by very large chapters. Well, at least I hope they're large.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was a very respectable hobbit. Well, at least he was to those in Hobbiton. The truth is that Bilbo had lost his respectability barely a year after his parents had passed. The inheritance that was given to him dwindling to nothing, and him caught between a rock and a hard place. Understand that this wasn’t the young hobbit’s fault. On the contrary, a good chunk of his funds were stolen from him under his very nose by his less than trusting cousins. Bilbo couldn’t get by any longer until he gained some sort of regular income. Alas, all of his skills were easily done by others in the shire, or jobs that he could do were scarce and far away from his own home.

He sunk low in funds, and lower in spirits until he found himself at an inn in Bree. By Yavanna he didn’t want to do this, but he was at his wits end on what else he could do. The next morning everything was sore, but his pockets were full, and he returned to his home slightly bruised, but with money. He paid off those he owed, getting strange looks from a few of them, and settled into the bath later that afternoon. The money he earned, after paying off several officials, had now become meager at best. He was lucky if he’d be able to restock a shelf in his pantry, no less the whole room. Groaning in the tub, he scrubbed himself clean as best he could before getting out to get dressed. He found himself at the same inn, later that evening, and left with more aches than before the next day. However, his pockets were also much fuller than last time. Eventually the young hobbit established a routine. Visit the inn three to four times a week depending on the revenue received, shower before going and after leaving the inn, prepare himself for all activities in advance, and always ALWAYS get back to Bag End before the sun rose. He had other rules as well, but those were for his clients and not himself.

This routine went on for a good 8 years.

That is until one day a meddling wizard came to his doorstep.

* * *

 

Bilbo Baggins wasn’t happy with his life, but he was content. His pantry was always full, his garden carefully tended too, and his clothes always in proper order. Smoking Old Toby on his porch was just what he needed after the strenuous night beforehand. He’d never had a client so rough, but he was paid double for his troubles even if the limp was hard to hide. When the old wizard came to his gate, he wanted nothing more than to be rude and send him off, but if he did that something would be amiss. He was polite as he could be, but found the man just as stubborn as he was in his youth. At least, that’s what his father had insisted upon telling him. His mother always found Gandalf to be a riot, and if he were a child he still would think that way.

The thing is, Bilbo was a child no longer.

Wishing him a good day, he went back into his home, and went about deciding what to make for supper.

He didn’t notice the old man putting such a small marking on the wood of his door.

* * *

 

Dwarves?

Dwarves in his home, and eating everything they could get their hands on! Bilbo wanted to faint. He also wanted to cry. It had taken him so long to get that pantry full again, and there wasn't even a roll of cheese left to speak for his work. Then there was talk of an adventure, a burglar, dragon-slaying, oh and all of it was so ridiculous. He didn't care about the troubles of dwarves, and he certainly wasn't a burglar. He didn't want to talk about what he was, so he continued feigning his respectability just as any other hobbit would.

They nearly broke his dishware, soiled his rugs with mud and dirt, ate him out of house and home, and now expected him to steal some glorified rock from a sleeping dragon! Preposterous it all was, and he made sure to make his feelings known on the matter.

The only thing that caught his ear was the mention of treasure. 1/14th of the share that lied within Erebor’s walls. He knew he shouldn't care for such things. Hobbits were simple folk, who enjoyed the pleasures in life, but Bilbo knew if he could get even just one chest of gold from such a horde he’d never have to go back to the inn.

Never again would he deal with the aches and pains. No more stained clothing, and sore throats, or bruises that he’d have to hide with scarves and long sleeved shirts in the middle of summer. No more leery gazes, and filthy touches of men and raiders that he would spend hours trying to scrub away. Not another dawn where he came home, and felt so cold and empty lying in bed.

His reputation would be tarnished for seeking an adventure, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide his secret. In comparison for what he was doing for the last 8 years, he’d rather have his reputation ruined by running off with dwarves than have a cousin spouting about his escapades and where his money had been coming from. Besides, how long could he really keep hiding these skirmishes until someone put two and two together? Likely not for much longer that’s for sure.

So he did what no one in the group expected him to do.

He agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Attempted Sexual Assault

They left the next morning, and Bilbo’s pony offered him no trouble. Myrtle was a fine steed, and he couldn’t wait to spoil her. They didn’t get very far though as they had to stop in Bree so that Gandalf could check his sources, and they could do a final stock on supplies before going into the woods without a town for miles. Something cold slithered down the back of the hobbit’s spine as he realized they were going to the inn that he frequented.

This wasn’t good.

Apparently Gandalf wouldn’t budge on the matter of where they would stay, as he had connections here. Bilbo tried to hide within the group of dwarves as best as he could, but they dispersed rather effectively to do their own thing, and one of the barmaids recognized him.

“Bilbo! You’re here a bit early aren’t you?”

He recognized the dark curls that billowed over the woman’s shoulders, and easily put a name to a face.

“Illiya, so nice to see you again. I’m not here for anything. Just staying for the night before heading off to, uh, go on an adventure.”

She nodded and bent low to whisper, “Fair warning lad, Daryer’s been sighted around these parts. If you’re not here to, well, do that, then you’d best be careful.”

“I will. Thank you, Illiya.”

He meant it. She was always looking out for him ever since he started his “business”. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he made his way to the table where his companions had settled.

“What was that about?” asked the hatted one.

Bofur! That’s his name.

“Ah, nothing really. I come here fairly often, and just tell stories. The barmaids really like them.”

“Seems like they like something else, eh Master Baggins,” said the one with star shaped hair.

Nori? Possibly. He would get their names down hopefully sooner rather than later.

“No, I would think not,” he said taking a seat next to Kili.

The brothers were much easier to put names to seeing as how they looked so different, but so alike. It was almost strange, but kind of a comfort. A map was laid on the table by their leader, Thorin. The only reason he could remember his name is because it didn’t rhyme, and because of the rather rude entrance Mister Oakenshield had made into his home.

“Looks more like a grocer” his arse.

He partially listened as the deep baritone of his voice flooded his senses. Maybe that was the ale talking. Either way Bilbo thought that it should be made illegal for anyone with such a nasty demeanor to be handsome or have anything nice about their physical attributes. It only tricks their possible suitors into finding them attractive, and Thorin was definitely attractive. Okay, now that was definitely the ale talking.

The hobbit tensed when a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder.

“Bilbo, it’s been a while.”

Daryer.

Damn it all.

“I didn’t know you were so popular around here, Master Baggins,” said the one with the bowlcut.

Ori! The youngest. Yes that’s it. He couldn’t get a word out though because Daryer began talking again. It was one of the things he hated about the man.

“Very popular indeed. Some new clients of yours?” he looked back down to the hobbit who was full on glaring now.

Just as he opened his mouth to retort another dwarf spoke over him, “Now I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Gloin, bless him for speaking what he was actually going to say.

“Of course not, Master Dwarf.”

He then bent down to whisper, “Why Bilbo, I didn’t know you did them in groups now.”

“Unhand me this instant and be on your way.”

Just as the man opened his mouth to retort, Illiya had come over and tapped his shoulder to speak.

“Sir, your room is all prepared up the steps.”

Daryer gave her a bored look before he shrugged. After which, he removed his hand and gave Bilbo an odd look as he said, “Perhaps next time, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo glared at the man’s back as he left, once he was out of eyesight and earshot, felt someone nudge his shoulder. Turning to his side, he saw it was Fili with a concerned look on his face.

“Everything all right, Mr.Baggins? Didn’t expect a hobbit to have bad blood with men around here.”

“Hobbits don’t have bad blood with men, I have bad blood with him specifically, but that’s a story for another day.”

“Well if you’re done with the dramatics Master Baggins, I would like for us to return to the matter at hand,” spoke Thorin from the other side of the table.

Bilbo’s glare now went to the haughty dwarf, and he ignored the sympathetic looks he was receiving from the brothers next to him. He had no idea how long he was going to tolerate the sheer arrogance of their leader, but he hoped it was long enough to stave him from giving the errant king a piece of his mind, and maybe a fist to the face as well. He’d already learned that some people needed physical violence to deter them from bad behavior, and he wasn’t afraid to implement these skills if necessary.

Their sleeping arrangements for the night had been determined by relation, and since Bilbo had no relatives to sleep with, he stayed in Gandalf’s room. The ale had hit his bladder harder than usual that night, and he took his room key with him as he went to the bathroom out in the hall. He didn’t expect to find a tall shadow of a man waiting for him outside the stall. He did, however, know who it was, as he was pulled aside and his back was pressed against the wall.

“So, not talking to me now, Bilbo?”

“Daryer, I told you I’m not here for business.”

“Ah, but in such a rude way. What happened to my sweet, tender, Bilbo?”

“Let me go, now.”

Daryer had always been one of his stranger clients. He wasn’t quite a regular, but he came often enough to shake him up, and was usually gentle in the bedroom unless he had seen Bilbo with someone else in the bar downstairs. In the end, he was a man who grew insanely jealous, and claimed things that weren’t his own rather often. Bilbo’s services, unfortunately, were one of these things, and that’s why he was happy that man didn’t come so often. The pay at the end was very good after a rough night, as it was his way of apologizing, but it made no difference to Bilbo due to the aftermath of the treatment, and the clean-up it involved.

Daryer held him against the wall, and plundered his mouth, making him nearly choke on his tongue. Bilbo felt a hand going up the side of his sleep shirt, and managed to pull his arm back enough to sock him in the jaw. It stunned him enough to pull away, and Bilbo only managed to turn slightly for his hasty retreat until he was slammed against the wall again. A hand was around his throat, but it didn’t squeeze, yet.

“You are mine! Why don’t you understand that?” he whispered harshly.

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

The man grabbed his crotch as he said, “Then allow me to remind you.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to scream, but the hand immediately tightened around his throat nearly cutting off his airway.

“Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn’t want you causing a ruckus so late at night.”

“Release the hobbit, and I won’t remove your head from your shoulders,” spoke a voice from behind the human.

Bilbo saw a glint of silver, and he managed to release a shaky breath in relief as he was set back on his feet. In the dim light, he managed to make out Thorin’s features. Not really the saviour he expected, but still much better than no one at all.

Daryer backed up and held his hands visible to Thorin’s eyes.

“Return to your rooms, and do not disturb Master Baggins again.”

Daryer snarled, before turning on his heel, and vanishing down the hall. Thorin sheathed his sword, and turned to Bilbo giving him an odd look. The hobbit swallowed, and muttered a small ‘thank you’ for being rescued.

“I’ll escort you back to your rooms in case he ignored my warning.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

It wasn’t until he was back in his room with Gandalf, and Thorin was long gone that he recognized the look he’d been given. It was the same one given to him by many relatives at his parent’s funeral.

Pity.


	3. Caught Between A Warg and A Homely House

Setting out the next morning, all seemed well with the dwarves, and wizard, as they officially began their journey to reclaim their home. Bilbo found comfort where he could among them, whether it was with Bofur’s stories, or Fili and Kili’s antics, or even Balin simply asking if he was doing all right. Although they were still very blunt about things,

Bilbo found them to be just as kind, if not kinder than his hobbit kin.

After the fiasco the night before, Thorin seemed to want to have little to do with him. Bilbo was surprised that he didn’t mind the treatment. It was much better to be ignored, than to be snapped and snarled at for the journey, in his opinion.

They set up camp that night under a hurdle of trees, and Bilbo found himself becoming very enthralled in one of Gloin's stories. The red-haired dwarf was regaling him the tale of his son, Gimli, being born and how miraculous it was even with the circumstances. Bilbo had never heard much about child birth as he hadn't been interested, but the difficulties that dwarven women had to go through did peak his curiosity. There were so many things about dwarves that weren't told in the books, and the hobbit always had an open ear to new knowledge.

It was as Oin interrupted to include medical knowledge that he heard a rustling in the bushes. At first he ignored it assuming it was a just the common wildlife, but then it grew more pronounced. It was enough to catch Thorin's attention briefly, but not enough to quiet the chatter. Bilbo figured that he just now noticed the noise, so he could only assume they had come to the same conclusion.

"I had to use a numbing agent to allow for the-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Oin, as it is very interesting, but I'm wondering if anyone else is hearing that?"

Oin and Gloin shared baffled looks before they quieted enough to hear the rustling themselves. Soon the entire encampment grew silent, and as the rustling grew louder, the closer the band was to drawing their weapons. For a few moments the rustling grew silent, and everyone held their breath.

Something brown leaped from the bushes and Bilbo could feel the weapons being drawn from their sheathes from how many there were. 

Surprisingly it was only a hare.

Kili leaped at the creature, and was just as surprised as the animal itself to have caught it.

"Now we can make roast rabbit," he said smugly at his brother.

Fili rolled his eyes, and as the dwarves began putting away their weapons, a larger creature leaped over the youngest dwarf into the middle of their encampment. It's dark striped brown fur was bristled, the muscles along it's legs were large and tightened in anticipation, and he snarled at the people nearest to him. Those people just so happened to be Bilbo, Gloin, and Oin, a bit more stunned than they would like to be.

It was a warg, and a rather ugly one at that. They were not solitary creatures either. Bilbo knew them well enough from his books, that they travelved in packs of 10 to 20. The dwarves all charged the creature, and Bilbo, being weaponless, did his best to stay out of the way. 

This warg happened to be a lot larger than his brethren, and he managed to stave off the pack of dwarves enough to leap towards his target.  
Bilbo.

The hobbit began to sprint in the other direction, but a log hindered his flight, and he immediately found himself trapped under a large paw. Instead of tearing him limb from limb, however, the beast was sniffing at his clothing beseechingly. Bilbo tried to push his head away, but he growled at the action and continued to sniff about his clothing until at once the creature fell heavily on top of him.

Oin helped lift the warg's head off of him as Gloin pulled him back onto his feet. His pants had blood on them, and by the time he looked up, Thorin had stomped towards him, now standing only a few feet away.

"Just what was that, hobbit."

"How am I supposed to know?"

"That thing came here for you, and we'll be lucky if it was the only one to trudge through our camp."

"I'm not a warg expert! I don't know why-"

"One moment," Oin interrupted.

Bilbo was quickly pat down, squawking and huffing at the grabbing until there was a small "ah" as Oin grabbed something from his pocket. In his hands was a handkerchief, embroidered with his initials in the corner. Oin sniffed the handkerchief again before tossing it into the fire.

"Lavender, it's like catnip to them. Nothin' to worry about now though," he said.

"You almost got my company killed over a handkerchief," Thorin snarled.

"It's not as if you gave me a list of things not to bring, oh great king," he snapped.

"Why in mahal's name would you even need such a frivolous thing-"

"-I'll have you know that any respectable hobbit carries one anywhere."

"Ha! With your _occupation'_ it's a wonder that you call yourself respectable."

Bilbo's face grew red with anger and indignation as he spat,"Well at least if this journey fails I have a home to return to!"

The whole company gasped as Thorin's face grew dark.

"You dare-!"

"Oh I dare, you ignorant, selfish, pig headed, big nosed-"

"Enough!"

Gandalf's voice rang loud enough to bring the fire from a blaze to a kindling. Bilbo and Thorin were a hairs breath away from each other. The hobbit with his fists clenched, and the dwarf looking as if he wanted to strangle the smaller man.

"I believe it's time for bed," said Balin from behind his king.

Dwalin tugged Thorin away, and Bilbo humphed as he turned on his heel to return to his seat on the other edge of camp. The body of the warg was dragged away, and Bilbo wasn't sure exactly what was done with it, but he did notice an abundance of meat and slightly warmer clothing for the company.

Fortunately the next few weeks of travelling and camping went without incident. Thorin and Bilbo avoided each other even more so. Every once in the while, in the background, several dwarves were chatting amicably and exchanging small bags, but other than that they kept to themselves. The tension ebbed away just a smidge, and if Thorin's shoulders weren't as hunched as they were when the incident occurred, no one made mention of it.

However, things could only stay so quiet for so long.

 

 

The next uproar happened when Gandalf spoke to them about The Last Homely House and to stay there in Rivendell for a period of time. Bilbo thought it was a wonderful idea. He could meet the immortal beings he was always told about as a child, and explore an entirely new culture. Of course there were also the side perks of sleeping in a real bed, taking a nice hot bath, getting his clothing mended, and all that, but of course the great king had much to say about elves.

The other dwarves were somewhat adamant, well, not really adamant, more so neutral as not to push their king's temper. In Bilbo's eyes, the more Thorin spoke about it, the more his hopes for a nice warm bed were becoming crushed, and that made him irritable.

The closer they got to Rivendell, the more huffy the hobbit became, and the other dwarves began keeping their distance from him. Well, that is except for Dori, who was slightly less neutral on the topic than everyone else. The two caught on very well, trading recipes, and asking questions about each others' cultures knowing that neither were trying to be offensive.

"Yes, Thorin has a grudge with the elves, but that is literally only one small percentage them. That and the elves of rivendell aren't anything like them in appearance or mannerisms. They're of a different race, a different upbringing, and very different morals. He literally has the "one bad apple ruins the entire bunch" mentality," Bilbo whispered harshly.

"The company of elves isn't really unpleasant at all. Many of them are fairly hospitable when they wish to be, and try to avoid trouble until it is brought to their doorstep."

"Exactly. Besides, does he really like sleeping on rocks so much as to deny a good rest that everyone in the company needs."

"A bed does sound very nice at this point, I will admit that."

"A bed, food we don't have to hunt, clean, and cook ourselves, mended clothes, and they'll likely fix anything wrong with your weapons. Not only that, but a very nice hot bath as well."

Bilbo's stomach growled loudly, and he rubbed it slowly. Dori had told him that dwarves only have 3 meals a day, but they're all very large. On the journey though, they had to pack somewhat light, so the meals were more like snacktime occasions to a hobbit.

"Maybe we could ask Balin to talk some sense into him," he spoke, giving his pony a pat on the mane.

"One step ahead of you, and Balin got the same reaction as Gandalf. Mind you there was less cursing, but still."

"How close are we to rivendell?"

"Not sure, maybe a few more days ride. Why?"

"I think I might be able to negotiate with him."

Dori's eyes grew wide and he asked, "You two don't really get along well. How do you expect to convince him to agree with you?"

"I have my ways," he finished surely.

They continued to ride on in silence until dusk. Everyone took their posts setting up camp, and rationing out the food. Balin counted their stock of supplies, and recounted to make sure all was in order. Bifur and Bofur were shaking out the sleeping mats so they would be somewhat comfortable. Nori was starting the fire, as Dori talked to Dwalin about what animals were out at night that they could catch before the predators struck. Fili and Kili were on first watch near the edges of the camp.

Seeing that everyone was mostly busy, he spotted Thorin sitting on a stump sharpening something. He was glancing back every few minutes to make sure things were in order before going over his sword again with a cloth.

Bilbo knew an opportunity when he saw one, so he waited for Thorin to glance away before darting into the forest. Walking around the edge of the encampment, he crept around until he was just behind the bushes by the stump Thorin sat upon. He walked out, stepping on a few twigs so that he wouldn't get gutted by the sword Thorin was polishing.

Thorin looked up at him when he was a foot away, snorted, and looked back down to his weapon again.

"Thorin?"

"What is it, burglar."

"Can we talk?"

"I have nothing to talk to you about."

"Well I have something to talk to you about," he said, placing his hands onto his hips.

"Then speak."

"Not here, I need to talk to you privately."

"Absolutely not. What you have to say to me, you can say to my company as well."

Bilbo realized that he was going to have to switch tactics, so he placed his hands in front of him, folding them over, and looked to the ground. His hair fell just over his eyes creating a small shadow, and the now blazing fire adding flickering light to his features.

"Thorin, please, it's really important."

The dwarf king sighed, and re-sheathed his weapon. Standing up, he caught the attention of some in the company, and he caught the attention of the rest as they saw him following Bilbo away from the camp.

Once they were a good distance away, Bilbo did his best to keep eye contact as he spoke.

"I'm not going to say I understand how you think or feel about things, as it's already obvious that you have your own reasons for the things that you do. You've lost a lot, and you're betting even more to, well, to get it back. At least somewhat I mean. However, if you want to go into this, and be prepared for whatever waits for us at that mountain, well then you need to take in consideration the conditions of who you keep close."

"What are you trying to say."

"What I'm trying to say is, no one will be able to fight off a dragon if they're exhausted. We have an opportunity coming up to get some rest, real rest, and to restock, and who knows when this kind of option will come up again for any of us. You said yourself-"

"This is about the elves isn't it? Well, if you think you're going to change my mind about this, you're wrong, burglar. Those selfish, tyrants lost my trust years ago. Do not think I would be so willing as to-"

"I'm not saying you have to trust them. You may not see what I see, but your companions are tired. Kili almost attacked a bush thinking it was a warg."

"He was simply tired from all the riding. We get rest when we set up camp."

"That isn't rest, Thorin. Rest is waking up feeling refreshed, not more tired than when you fell asleep."

"I did not bring you here to question my leadership."

"That's right because you didn't bring me anywhere, I chose to come here."

"And by doing so you've chosen to follow my orders!"

"Not if it's going to get us killed."

Thorin snarled, and turned to walk away, but Bilbo managed to grab the end of his sleeve.

"Thorin, please listen."

"I've done enough listening to you to last several lifetimes," he said snatching his arm away.

"Thorin, wait. I'll do anything, if you just let us rest in rivendell. It could be a day, it could be an hour, just please."

"...anything?"

"Yes, anything."

Thorin paused and his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Bilbo began growing nervous, the longer the silence ran. What if he asked for "his services"? What if he made him embarrass himself in front of the entire company? What if he made him tell his secret to the new friends he was making in the odd bunch of dwarves?

"Tell me why you chose your occupation, Mr.Baggins."

The hollow feeling in his chest grew somewhat larger than it normally was.

"What?"

"I shall not repeat myself. In exchange for this information, I'll budge on the rivendell issue."

"Do you want the whole story or the summary?"

"The entirety of it."

Bilbo's throat was dry, as he tried to form the words in his head. Once his hands stopped shaking, and the tightness in his throat eased up he began to speak. He told Thorin of his parents dying, and of the inheritance that was left to him. He told him about the odd family member or two that would visit, and the one day where his funds were so low seemingly out of nowhere. No one would admit to the crime of the theft, and how the few jobs he could do were not available and wouldn't be for a long time. The fear in his heart when there were only a few coins left in his purse, and he had to pay loans off or fear losing the home he was raised in.

Once the words began flowing, he couldn't stop talking. Thorin learned about his first trip into Bree, and when he first visited the inn. There were not many hobbits there yet, but he caught the eye of a few of the regulars. Then as he was spending his last few cents on a pint, he noticed a woman going upstairs with one of the men. Not thinking it odd, he finished his drink and paid, sitting by the fire to warm his feet before the long trek back home. It was an hour later as he was pulling on his coat, when he saw the man leave the woman at the top of the stairs handing her a small bag of currency before he left.

Bilbo told him that he hadn't had any experience with anyone before, but he forced himself to learn things quickly as to get more cash. He talked about how he figured out his routine, and, how the barmaids would help him out with certain customers, turning them away if they were unstable. He talked about how he was able to make a living again, and managed to keep it a secret from his large family. Then he talked about when Thorin's group of ruffians, came trampling in and basically emptied his entire pantry and icebox leaving him to start over in a sense. When Bilbo had finished, Thorin had a puzzled look on his face.

"If everything had fallen into place as it did, why did you join me on this journey?"

"Because I'm tired of living like this. I'm tired of bruises, and new customers, and old customers, and people like Daryer. I'm tired of hiding my arms and legs in long sleeves and pants when it's sweltering outside. I'm tired of being used and feeling disgusting whenever I look into a mirror."

He hadn't even realized he had shouted until he saw how wide Thorin's eyes were.

"I'm sorry. I just-... I don't even need 1/14th of the gold in Erebor. If I could just get my hands on one chest, just one, I know I'll never have to go back to that life."

"And if you don't?"

"If I don't what?"

"If you don't receive 1/14th or even one chest, what will you do?"

"Well, I suppose it depends on the type of person I am when this journey ends."

"I suppose it does, Mr.Baggins."

The walked back towards the camp in silence, until Bilbo said, "So we'll be staying in Rivendell?"

"I said I 'll budge on the issue, there was no talk of staying there. We will restock and nothing more."

"You-you-you dunderhead! You selfish oaf! I have never met anyone more irritating and-"

After the shouting match of an entrance back onto their campground, Bilbo and Thorin avoided one another for the rest of the night. More small bags were exchanged among the company under the nose of their leader, and Nori seemed to be tallying something in his notebook.


	4. Chapter 4

Arriving in Rivendell had been a very pleasant affair for Bilbo. The dwarves were a bit wary, but that’s simply because the elves seemed to be laying on the manners very thickly. Thorin insisted that they were only there to restock, mend weaponry, and quickly leave. Gandalf proceeded to state that even then they’d have to stay a couple nights in order to be set for the journey ahead. The dwarf king grumbled, but assented and Bilbo could’ve leapt for joy in triumph.

At least he would’ve if his stomach hadn’t been feeling so odd that day. As the dwarves dispersed, Bombur stayed nearby to make sure the hobbit was all right. He’d noticed him acting strange all day, almost flinching away from most contact. Perhaps the previous incident with the trolls were beginning to get to him.

“Do you need any help, Bilbo?”

“Oh no Bombur, I’ll be fine. Isn’t this wonderful? Nice soft beds, no fear of attacks, as much food as I can stomach, and I get to learn as much as I can about the elves of Rivendell,” he said somewhat swaying as he dropped his pack.

“I did miss sleeping in a bed, but I think now that we’ll be using one for a while, I’ll be missing sharing a bed while we’re here,” he said with a small laugh.

“Really, with who?”

“My lovely wife.”

“That’s so sweet, Bombur. Do you have any kids?”

“Quite a few surprisingly, I’ve never been happier for the family we’ve forged together.”

Bilbo laughed at the pun, causing Bombur to laugh along with him. Everyone in the band of dwarves were so kind, or clever, that it blew his mind that such an odd grouping of people with different talents could all be so close.

“Any lasses back in the shire that ever caught your fancy?”

“Oh no, no no no. I’m not much of a family man.”

“Oh, well any lads back in the shire then?”

Bilbo’s cheeks tinted pink as he shook his head in response.

“I used to think I wasn’t much of a family man either, but having a wife and having kids isn’t the only kind of family there is, Mister Baggins. Many people end up making their own families with the people they meet. As they say 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’.”

“You’re very wise, Bombur,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you, Bilbo. Would you mind telling my wife that once we reclaim Erebor?”

Bilbo laughed again, startling a few of the elves, but feeling comfortable again after the odd journey so far.

A little while before dinner, as the dwarves sat huddled in a circle outside one of the halls, Thorin pulled at the map he had shown them in Bree. Gandalf stood off in a corner with Lord Elrond speaking about it, and Bilbo was partially curious and partially dazed. His face felt very hot, but it was very hot outside, so he didn’t take it to heart. Lord Elrond finally approached the dwarf king, and spoke to him about possibly being able to read the map after dinner. Thorin gave him an odd look, before looking to Balin who nodded in assent.

Bilbo sighed in relief as it looked as though Thorin was agreeing. Pushing off of the column, the room swayed before immediately coming into focus again. Maybe he should go to bed. His stomach had other ideas though, as it grumbled louder than before. Dinner first, and then some rest in a real bed.

The dwarves were adamant about leafy greens, but they endured as dwarves do. Even though Bilbo’s stomach was rumbling very loudly at this point, it was as if his throat didn’t want to swallow the food he was eating, so he didn’t eat very much. Slipping out of his chair, he followed Gandalf and Thorin to meet with Lord Elrond about the map. After all the trouble so far, the hobbit believed that he should be of help whenever he could, and maps were his forte so to speak.

Surprisingly everything went rather smoothly. The entrance would be revealed by the last light of Durin’s Day, and Bilbo was slightly more nervous now that they had a time limit. When they left Lord Elrond’s presence the room swayed again, and the hobbit found himself on the cold floor. He could hear a small “oh dear” from Gandalf and a concerned call of his name before he blacked out.

When the hobbit woke up again, it was in a bed, and he was tucked in rather tightly with soft cotton blankets. His face still felt very warm, and his stomach rumbled.

“Did you ever think with every incident that has occurred that maybe you do not belong on this journey, Master Baggins,” said Thorin from his bedside.

“Is it too late to get someone else to stay by my bedside,” he rasped as his throat was very dry.

A heavily calloused hand lifted his head, and a small bowl of water was tipped into his mouth.

“I’m simply saying you’ve brought us a moderate amount of bad luck, and we’re barely halfway to our destination,” he said taking away the bowl once it was empty.

After his head was laid back down onto the pillows Bilbo said, “You have such a nice voice, but then you say things that make me want to hit you, over and over and over and over again.”

“Ha! I doubt you would do little if any damage, especially in your condition. Why did you tell no one that you were not receiving the proper nourishment? You could’ve died, and where would we be?”

“Halfway to the shire to find yourself a new burglar. I didn’t know I was getting ill Thorin. I don’t even know what illness this is.”

“Do you really think so little of your life that you believe we wouldn’t mourn if you passed?”

“Wait, what? This is a very long conversation for someone feverish.”

A cool towel was placed over his forehead, and Bilbo sighed in relief.

“You’ve become very attached to the members of my company, Master Baggins. I’m sure they’d be too busy mourning after you for us to complete this journey at all. Gandalf said that after the fever breaks, the first thing you should have is a very large meal to compensate for lost time. While we’re here, we’ll figure out an eating schedule so that this does not happen again. Do you understand, burglar?”

Bilbo had actually fallen asleep halfway through the explanation, but it was to be expected. Thorin sighed as he leaned back into his chair. The hobbit could be so infuriating at times he didn’t know what to think, but he did appreciate his honesty along the journey. Reviewing the map, Gandalf assured him that they could spend a week or two in Rivendell without losing time. He also said it would be very good to make sure Bilbo was tip top before leaving, as they couldn’t steal anything properly without their burglar. Getting as comfortable as he could, Thorin dozed off by the hobbit’s bedside.

The fever broke after two more days of rest, and Thorin was surprisingly good company throughout the duration of it. Of course they had moments were they wanted to wrangle the other’s neck, but it had turned into banter over that small period of time. Bilbo was very happy to have his appetite back, and the elves of Rivendell were very shocked to see a small creature put away so much food. It was a little revolting to them actually.

The dwarves were simply happy to have their burglar back to his old self. They did manage to work out a meal plan so that Bilbo wouldn’t have another episode. Lord Elrond was kind enough to suggest lembas bread be the in between meals, and Bilbo found he very much liked the subtly sweet taste of them. Bilbo found out later from Fili that he missed the bathing party they had in the fountain, and he was all of sudden very thankful to have been struck by that fever. Luckily because of the incident, they were now allowed to use the actual bathing rooms which had hot water.

They practiced the meal plan that day, starting in the morning, and ending it after dinner, changing his food portions to what they were on the journey but also adding the snacks such as a roll of bread, a bit of meat the dwarves snuck in, or some of the lembas. Surprisingly, Bilbo didn’t feel sluggish as he normally did, but the plan would be put to the full test once they were on the road again. In the meantime, it was time for a bath after such a lax day.

He gathered the sleep clothes the elves had made him, and one of the nicer women lead him the right direction. When he opened the door, his face was smeared with steam, and he sighed at the relief. Opening his eyes, he was quickly assaulted with the view of a scarred, tattooed, but well-muscled back. Feeling his cheeks warm, he sputtered, causing Thorin to turn around. The water barely came up to his hips, and Bilbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t drawn to the deep V.

“Wh-wh- wha-,” he was interrupted as he heard more splashing, and looked around to see that the bathing pool was huge, but there were so many naked dwarves.

His face felt so hot he thought steam was pouring from his ears.

“Are you all right, Bilbo?” Kili said popping up from Thorin’s side.

“Yeah, you look about flushed again,” Fili said appearing opposite.

“Fine! I’m fine, I can see you’re all using the facilities, and that it’s very full-“

“Nonsense, there’s enough room for 20 dwarves, at least,” Fili said.

Thorin remained quiet, but was giving him an odd look, making him want to sink into the floor. Looking around there were more flashes of wet naked skin, tattoos, and indecent exposure, causing him to put a hand over his eyes.

“No really, perfectly fine. I’ll just- you all do what you’re doing. Fine, perfectly, okay,” Bilbo blathered as he backed against the wall.

The brothers watched him feel along it until he found the door, and rushed out. They noticed their uncle still staring at where the hobbit left, and shared a look. Fili jumped up first, and Kili right after him both running towards the star haired thief.

“Nori! I want to change my day,” called Fili.

“No! I want to the change _my_ day,” called Kili.

There was much splashing as Nori yelled, “Both of you, calm down or you’re going to wash the ink out of it!”

Bilbo waited behind one of the many columns until he could hear the dwarves leaving the bath room. When the last bit of conversation was out of earshot, he went back into room, sighing in relief, seeing that it was empty for the most part. He stripped quickly, and sighed as he stepped into the hot water, feeling the dirt wash away from his person. Feeling around, he found a perch to sit on so that the water came up to his chest, and leaned back against the warm stone behind him. He barely heard the door open, but he did jump at the sound of footsteps.

“Who’s there?”

“Does it matter? No one’s going to kill you here,” Thorin’s voice said from the entryway.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and asked, “Did you forget something?”

“No.”

“So you’re just here to watch me bathe like some pervert.”

“Quite the contrary, I’m here to ask why you were so reluctant about bathing with us.”

“You’re not the only one with scars,” he muttered.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, you’re not the only one with scars. I much prefer bathing alone for my own reasons.”

“Hm, that’s a shame. I assume it’s customary to bathe by yourself in the Shire?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Well, we dwarves are a hardy bunch, and we often bathe with our families to bond, or on such journeys as this with each other for strength in numbers. We let this slid the first time, as you don’t know our customs, but to do something like this again not only puts yourself at risk, but is a great insult to us. It says you don’t care for the company you keep.”

Bilbo had grown very silent, fiddling with his hands under water.

“I didn’t know.”

“Tell me Bilbo, what kind of scars do you have that would make you fearful of bearing them to anyone but yourself?”

“I think I’ve answered enough personal questions without anything in return. Tell me something about yourself first, and maybe I’ll feel inclined to give you such information.”

Bilbo took time now to notice that Thorin was not sporting his many layers, in favor for the sleep clothes they were provided with.

“I noticed you looking at our tattoos before you ran off. Would you like to know what they signify?”

Bilbo nodded, but then realized that Thorin could probably barely see him through the fog and said, “Yes, they’re all very interesting from what I’ve glimpsed of them.”

“The first one you receive is a rite of passage into adulthood. It’s a band that wraps around your thigh of your family crest, and the symbols of creatures you fought or tasks you’ve completed all connecting together. After that you may choose to continue getting tattoos to mark such feats, to symbolize a lost loved one, or for decoration as our women have discovered. Dwalin has many because he’s completed many feats, and he very much loves the décor of it all. I started to take the same route he did, but then I lost very much.”

Bilbo was silent as he waited for Thorin to continue talking.

“Although a king must care for his people, he must also care for his family, and I have very little of that left.”

“Bombur told me that a lot of the time, you make your own family from the bonds you create with the people you meet. That ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’.”

Thorin remained silent as Bilbo continued to say, “Believe it or not, I think you’ve made a wonderful family with the company as a whole, and that you have much more family than what you lost. Of course, I’m not saying anyone is replaceable, but it’s nice to have even a makeshift family to make new memories with, right?”

“What about you, Master Baggins?”

“Me? Oh, I’d never get any tattoos. They look nice, but permanent things like that tend to be very painful.”

Thorin took the change of subject for what it was and said, “Not nearly as painful as a nail in the palm of your hand.”

Bilbo laughed at that, and Thorin noticed that it was fluttery, and sincere. Quickly ending that train of thought, he bid the hobbit goodnight, but not before he said that the thing about dwarves bathing was actually a lie. A bar of soap hit him square in the back of the head, but he was too busy laughing not to think he didn’t deserve it.

The two weeks they spent in Rivendell, was a refresher for everyone, but unfortunately this wasn’t a vacation. They bid the elves of The Last Homely House farewell, before making their way to Erebor. Bilbo promised himself he would come back to Rivendell, and stay as long as he pleased next time, learning more of the culture, and not worrying about a dragon flaying him alive. Actually, he should probably stop thinking of any fire breathing lizards for fear of fainting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought I wouldnt update didnt you? well you were partially right, as I wasnt planning on touching this for a while, but I hate leaving things unfinished when I know that I, myself, hate being left in the dark of what'll happen next. as i said before I'll do my best to make these chapters long so i think this one is 3k roughly? the next one will be 4 or 5k and i'll try writing it today before I lose the inspiration bug again


	5. Chapter 5

“Where are you going, Bilbo?”

“I’m going home, Bofur.”

Thorin laid on the cold stone floor as he drowned out the rest of the conversation. The hobbit was abandoning them as they slept. He’d say that he couldn’t blame the creature, but that would be a lie. Master Baggins was beginning to earn his respect, but he could see that respect crumbling into pieces as it did for him many times. It happened to him as a child, watching his grandfather go mad; it happened when the elves abandoned them; it happened with the crudeness of men disgusted him; and now the hobbit, their burglar, is doing the same. He supposed that this is what happened when you went on quests for selfish reasons, because he’s done the same, and lost much due to selfishness himself. They would have to think of a new plan to-

“What’s that sound?” said Dwalin.

The ground rumbled from underneath them, and before they could so much as stand, the group was falling through the floor. Falling, and falling, Thorin could make out some of his company trying to grab for a rock or a ledge, and others screaming through the descent. They hit the inside of an odd cage, and Thorin being one of the first to land it in, meant he was apart of the landing pad for the rest of his company. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue, and then it was gone as soon as it came.

Pausing for a moment he came to his senses, and smelled the most rotten stench.

Goblins.

He hated goblins.

Not only did they reek, but they also did this irritating nattering thing when they spoke to each other. It wasn’t enough nattering to be an actual language, but it was enough to grate on his nerves. The beasts made dark weapons, killed themselves as much as they killed their enemies, and shat where ever they sat. Thorin wasn’t the type who condoned genocide for simply existing, but these creatures made him highly reconsider the option.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Bofur whispered.

“I saw him fall a lot further than the rest of us, I hope he’s all right,” whispered Ori.

“The fall was longer than us, do you think he-?”

Thorin didn’t listen for another moment. The hobbit would be fine. It didn’t matter anyway, as he planned on leaving them when the opportunity presented itself. This was a fine opportunity to do so. The goblin on the right stabbed his arse again with the spear, and he swore if it did it again he would rip the little buggers’ arms off. The smell grew stronger, the further they were led to, where ever they were being told to go. If he were able to understand the odd language the goblins were using, he would’ve prepared for the sight of their jiggling, pus spewing, and bug-eyed leader.

Was that a bucket directly under his throne?

It smelled very full, and Thorin was surprised at his will power not to puke at the sight or the smell of it.

“Well, what have we here? Is it dinner time already, boys?” the large goblin laughed.

Thorin then noticed there was a haphazard crown sitting on his head, but continued looking boredly at his captors. That is, until they began taking their weapons away. Everyone made an attempt to grab their weaponry back, only to be prodded at by the black metal of spears. The goblin king was saying something, but as it stood, Thorin thought he was going to retch from the stench. Apparently the creatures’ arse was a temporary lid so to speak, as the smell tripled when he was off of his throne. He did hear someone puking behind him, but didn’t look back to see who it was.

“What is it you were doing in my mountain, dwarf?”

No one responded, but Thorin gave the creature a bored look.

“What are you doing, here? Trying to kill us? Rob us? Steal like the filthy little earth diggers you are?”

No one in the group spoke out, and Thorin was thankful for that. Maybe the creatures would toss them over the edge.

“Well then, if they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk! Bring out the mangler! Bring out the bone breaker! Start with the youngest!"

One of the goblins pointed to Ori, and Thorin quickly stepped out from the group.

“Wait!”

The goblin king paused, and turned, getting an odd glint in his eye.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the mountain. Well, that would be your title, if you hadn’t become the beggar under the waste stalls!”

All of the goblins laughed with him, punching each other in the arms, and falling to the ground cackling.

When the laughter died down, and Thorin remained un-phased, the goblin king leaned down, as close to his face as possible. A scowl formed on Thorin’s face, as the goblin king spoke.

“You’ve been causing a lot of people trouble, oh great king. Someone very special has been looking for you, well, for your head, really. He’s one of those no bodies attached types when it comes to getting a bounty. A very old friend of yours that goes by the name Azog.”

“Azog the defiler died long ago.”

“You think so? Send word to the pale orc, and tell him I’ve found his prize.”

Thorin watched one of the smaller goblins write a note, and could feel his throat getting tight. Where the hell is Gandalf?

There was a large plate brought out from the other side, which was set on the arm of the throne. The goblin eyed it, taking his seat, and beginning to eat heartily. From what Thorin could tell, it looked like a barely shaved lamb, and he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for the distraction, or dreading the aftermath of digestion.

He could hear the rolling of wheels, and glanced back to see the instruments of torture, the goblin king mentioned. In front of him, he saw the goblins playing with their weaponry, and could the gasps and screams as his sword was unsheathed, glowing a bright blue.

“I know that sword! It’s the goblin cleaver, the biter, the blade that’s sliced a thousand necks,” the king said crawling further into his throne.

“Kill them! Slash them, beat them, kill them all!”

The goblins began whipping, and biting at the company, and Thorin was shoved down. A goblin gave him an ugly smile as he pulled out his straight sword preparing to behead him. The first thing he thought was that this adventure was surprisingly short-lived, until there was an explosion of light.

Everyone had been knocked over, and the lights were all snuffed out.

“Take up your arms. Fight!” Gandalf's voice rang out.

Well better late than never, he supposed.

Grabbing his sword, Thorin began cutting and striking at whatever got too close to him, as did his company. He struck at the goblin king causing him to fall from his perch down below. Then there was running, as they slashed, and cut, goblins seemed to be coming from every angle the further they went. Lights came on here, and there allowing him to see flashes of hideous faces, as they ran. Adrenaline burst through his veins, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears more so than the screaming around him.

Soon his thinking became methodical. Jump, run, run, slash here, step back, parry, thrust sword, run, shield, run, duck, run, stab, run, parry, run, over and over, until they were all falling again. There were too many goblins to fight, and they had lost time dealing with the beasts. He heard Gandalf mention daylight, and nodded, following the wizard, and leading his company out of the caves, and into the sun.

He’d never been so relieved to be blinded by light before in his life. After it looked like the goblins weren't following them out, he noticed Gandalf pointing at each of his company and muttering under his breath.

“Where’s Bilbo?” he asked.

“I thought he was with Dori,” said Gloin.

“Me? No, he wasn’t!”

“He fell much farther than the rest of us,” said Nori.

“Tell me exactly what happened!”

“I will tell you what happened,” Thorin said bitterly.

Gandalf, and the group gave him a look, and he could feel bile rising to his throat. He blamed it on the adrenaline still flowing through his veins, and not the betrayal he felt.

“He abandoned us. He saw his chance to return to his little hole, and he took it whilst we slept before we fell. We will not be seeing our hobbit again, that much is for sure,” he finished.

“I find that very unlikely,” said a familiar voice.

They all turned to see Bilbo, looking a bit worse for wear, but there all the same. His nephews ran over in excitement seeing the hobbit all right, and there.

“Bilbo, we’d given you up,” said Kili.

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili asked with a small laugh.

“How indeed,” said Dwalin from beside him.

Bilbo looked as if he were trying to gather his words, and couldn’t exactly explain. Instead the hobbit gave a small laugh and put his hands on his hips.

“Well, what does it matter? He’s back,” said Gandalf.

“It matters!” Thorin found himself saying as he approached the hobbit.

Bilbo faltered back a few steps as Thorin snapped, “I want to know: why did you come back?”

“Look, I know you doubt me, as you have had right too. You’ve been betrayed by people you trusted, and I didn’t come along for the noblest of reasons. I came along to satisfy my own selfishness, but I realized that it’s not what I’m here for. Along this journey, I’ve realized that I’ve missed things. My books, the fire at my hearth, and a meal to sit down to everyday. I missed my home, and the comforts it brought me, but you’ve lost yours. And more trying to regain it. That’s why I came back. I want to do everything I can to help you regain what you’ve lost, and if that means never going back to the comforts I have, then so be it.”

The other dwarves pondered his words, but Thorin could feel his throat getting tight again. Before he could take in what was said he heard the sound of someone shouting. Looking up, he saw the sight of someone who was supposed to be long dead.

“Out of the frying pan,” he started.

“And into the fire. Run! RUN!” Gandalf shouted.

Thorin had gotten rather tired of running, but as it was either that or be killed, and he didn't want to choose the latter. He saw flashes of different colour hair running beside him, behind him, and in front of him, recognizing his company as such. As they ran, he wasn't sure what to think. Bilbo did the one thing that no one else had done to him before. He came back, but it wasn’t that which would earn his trust for the hobbit back. If they didn't die by this encounter, Thorin guessed that he could give their burglar another chance.

As day became night, and the wargs eyesight grew better with the rising moon, they found themselves climbing a tall tree on the edge of a cliff as Azog and his group closed in. Azog was saying something, and Thorin heard his father’s name escape that disgusting mouth. As the puzzle pieces clicked in his mind, he felt his arms trembling, and everything turned red. A fire was quickly covering the field below them, and some of the wargs who attempted climbing the tree, were being deterred by it. Thorin could no longer hear the cries of his company, nor the shouts of indignation as he leapt from the tree.

He knew he had blacked out for several moments as he fought. There was Azog’s smug face, and the white warg. There was pain. He could feel his arms swinging before there was more pain, and he remembered at one point being tossed about like a rag doll. When the red from his vision faded, he was bleeding, and the edges of his vision grew black. He could feel cool metal touching his throat, and saw a blur shove down the offender.

There was a flash of blue, and he immediately knew it was Bilbo, as he was the only other one with an elvish sword. The world eventually went black, and he thought of how pitiful a death like this would be for one to be consumed by such a rage that he was blind to his own friend’s needs.

When Thorin awoke, his vision was flooded with light.

He must be dead.

Then there was Gandalf standing over him with a smug smile, and he realized that he must have done something horrible to have to suffer from such tortures in the afterlife. After listening for the shuffling, and realized he was laying on yet another rock, he figured that he must still, somehow, be alive. The memory of the flash of blue entered his thoughts he spoke quietly.

“The Halfling?”

Gandalf smiled knowingly, and said, “Bilbo is here, and quite safe.”

Dwalin and Fili help him up, and though he felt weak, and was likely full of holes, he managed to shrug them off marching towards the hobbit. Bilbo looking indignant met him halfway, and began shouting first.

“What did you think you were doing! You could’ve died, Thorin, and then where would we be!”

“What was I doing? You were the one throwing yourself at an orc’s back. There are others here who could lead this company, but none who could be our burglar. You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive, and that you had no place among us?”

Before Bilbo could say something that would make Thorin change his mind, he embraced the hobbit, and held him tightly. Something eased in his chest, knowing he was able to do this, and that his hobbit was safe again.

Odd. When did he begin thinking of Bilbo as his?

“I’ve never been so wrong in my life,” he heard himself saying.

He heard his company cheering, and slapping each other on the back. Bilbo had hugged him back, burying his face in his chest, and Thorin was the first to release him, patting his sleeves.

“I’m sorry that I doubted you.”

“It’s all right, Thorin. I doubted me too, and currently I’m doubting my sanity,” he said with a small tilt of his head.

Thorin smiled, finding the gesture fond. He managed not to startle at the sound of the eagles screeching, and flying off. Where the hell did the giant eagles come from? He definitely didn’t remember those before he passed out, but that’s probably why Gandalf had looked so smug upon his awakening. Looking in the distance, he heard his nephews gasp in awe with the hobbit.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asked.

“Erebor, our home,” Thorin whispered.

It’s been so long since he’d last seen it, but he found himself remembering every nook and cranny even from this distance. He felt a hand on his arm, and looked to his side to see Bilbo staring at the mountain, almost fondly.

“Were those freckles on his throat?” Thorin thought curiously.

“I do believe the worst is behind us,” Bilbo said.

Birds were flying back to the mountain, so that must be a good sign that other creatures were living in it. Either the dragon was dead, or long gone. Either way, Thorin thought there was still much to face as they continued their journey. Laying ahead of them were the elves of Mirkwood, and to top it off, Azog was coming for his head.

He felt very weary in mind, and body, as they all descended the carrock. Dwalin let him lean on him so as not to fall, and Thorin heard a jangling of coin bags being passed about behind him. This wasn’t the first time he heard it, and now he wondered what his company had been up to. He knew the sound of a betting pool when he heard one.

They managed to set up camp under the shade of the rock face as night fell.

“We can only rest for a night, and no longer. After that, I have a friend nearby who can house us safely for a while,” Gandalf said as the fire at their encampment was made.

Thorin winced as Oin bandaged up his wounds with the little supplies they had left. Hopefully it would hold until they were at Gandalf’s friends’ house. Laying propped up against a log, he found his appetite was fading in the wake of remembering what happened. He’d climbed that tree in a fit of hatred, and was beaten rather pitifully by the white warg and Azog. It was an incredibly stupid decision, which his torso is reminding him of every time he breathed, but at least he knew where his father was. Mahal help his predecessors and the Durin name while they were in the afterlife.

As the company busied itself, scavenging for something to eat, keeping the fire going, but low, and counting the supplies they had left, he found himself in the company of ~~his,~~ _their_ burglar again.

“Gandalf said his friend is several days travel from here.”

Thorin grunted in acknowledgement. Usually Bilbo approached him for a reason, and he wanted to see where the hobbit was going with this.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m alive, which is more than I could say for anyone else in my position.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Bilbo grew quiet again, and fiddled with his thumbs, as he always did when he fumbled for something to say. Thorin watched the hands work themselves over each other until they stopped, and he made eye contact with dark brown eyes.

“Please don’t do something like that again,” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure if he could keep such a promise. Bilbo’s eyes were pleading, and shiny, and went back to looking at those small dirty hands.

“I don’t know what-“

“Thorin. Look at me.”

So he did.

“Promise me you won’t endanger your life like that again.”

Thorin placed a hand over Bilbo’s to keep them from fiddling, but he kept eye contact with him.

“I wish I could promise you that. I wish I could say that I will never do anything like that, that my rage won’t once again consume me for something trivial and foolish, or that I won’t throw my life on the line for something that I may regret, but I do not know. I do not know if something like this will happen again, and I found that I would much rather tell you the truth than to lie and break your promise.”

“Thorin-“

“No, now it is my turn to speak.”

Looking to the fire, he noticed quite a few members of the company looking at them, and by quite a few he meant all of them. Rolling his eyes he turned back to Bilbo, and removed his hand.

“Ever since the Durin line came to be, there is this curse bestowed upon all with our blood. Gold sickness, is the westron word for it. My grandfather fell to it after discovering the arkenstone, and my father fell to its clutches next. At the start of this journey, I was prideful that such greed would not fall to me as I’ve seen its ruin, but seeing now how blinded I had become by rage in such a dark time…there is doubt.”

Fili and Kili looked at him sadly, and he knew the same look was in his eyes. He promised their mother their safe return, but now he wasn’t so sure. Things had begun to sour so quickly, and he found himself a little afraid. He wouldn’t show it, but he could feel it was there.

“I will do all that I can to keep myself from falling, but I trust all of you.”

He paused and looked at Bilbo as he emphasized, “ _All of you_ to trust your own judgment.”

The camp was quiet, and the bubbling of food cooking along with the crackling and popping of the fire were the only sounds for a few moments.

“I’ve no doubt that you’ll prove yourself wrong on such thoughts, Thorin,” Gandalf chuckled.

“And if he’s right, I’m sure Bilbo will just yell the sickness out of him” Balin said joining in on the laughter.

Soon the whole company was laughing, and joking, letting the serious moment pass for what it was. Bilbo found himself laughing along with them, and Thorin had a smile on his face. The dwarf king found that hobbit sitting next to him for the rest of the evening, even as food was passed, and stories were told. He found Bilbo’s presence a comfort, and managed to doze off as Bombur was telling of his wife’s third pregnancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this chapter was from thorin's pov, yes we'll be back to bilbo's pov next chapter. the reason i did it from thorins pov is because one, i hate riddles and really didnt feel like going back and forth like they do in the movies, and two i always thought these events in the movies really solidified thorins feelings for bilbo from disdain to respect and trust blah blah blah, im blathering again, this was almost 4k, its more like 3500 words, but close enough. im hoping the next chapter will be 4k, but i may or may not reach that number
> 
> see ya next week with a new chapter


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